


My Knight, My Savior, What Took You So Long?

by Jeniouis



Series: Sam Wilson Centric Fics [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: AU, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Prostitution, Sam-Centric, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2017-01-11
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:28:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,628
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jeniouis/pseuds/Jeniouis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam's been in the streets since he was fifteen. And he's convinced he'll die there.</p><p>Steve Rogers strongly disagrees.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written by someone who knows nothing about prostitution except for what she's read online.

Stereotypes. There were so many stereotypes. And everyone believed them. Sam had yet to meet a trick who thought he had any form of self respect. Granted, he usually had to ignore it for the fulfilling of some guy's (or girl's) kink. Case in point right now as he sat on his knees, sucking some stranger's cock, hoping to God some cop didn't come by because they were in a open but thankfully dark alley all because this guy had a thing for public sex.

Sam winced when the guy jerked his hips forward, pushing his cock to the back of Sam's throat and down it. That wasn't something that Sam wanted him to do. And had the bastard asked, Sam would have told him deep throating was extra. But he didn't ask so Sam was forced to just take what he gave. Sam's stomach clenched and he tried to push the away the feeling of being violated.

It was another stereotype. That a street whore couldn't be force. It was a horribly wrong stereotype.

The guy hissed lowly as he pushed his hips foreword and back, thrusting his cock in and out of Sam's mouth. Sam could taste his warm, salty precum, and he hoped this fucker didn't have a disease.

"You know at first I was going to stiff ya, but that sweet mouth of yours really was worth ten dollars." The man said pulling away and Sam stood, wiping a drip of cum off his chin and held his hand out.

"If you think my mouth is good you should try my ass or my dick." Sam said trying to squeeze every dime out of this guy as he could. He wasn't too concerned about being stiffed. He had a pimp who kept a close eye on all his whores. This guy wouldn't have made it two feet. But if he didn't make enough, Brock would send him through hell like he did last night. Sam was still incredible sore from it.

The john looked a him curiously, but pulled a two five out of his wallet, "How much is your ass?"

"Twenty-five." Sam answered simply and uninvitingly. He certainly wasn't looking forward to it. Part of him hoped the guy would decline but he also knew how much he needed the money. He almost had enough to keep Brock from beating the hell out of him.

"Oh that's not too bad. Can I cum inside you." The guy asked and Sam shook his head because he saw an opportunity to make an extra buck. "I'll give you an extra ten if I can." Ten plus twenty-five equalled thirty-five dollars that Sam desperately needed so he nodded. "Awesome. Turn around and lean against the wall." The guy said. Sam sighed.

"Pay me upfront." Sam said, mostly because he needed to give himself a moment to breath. The guy nodded and pulled his wallet back out his pocket, reaching in it and pulling out a twenty, a ten, and a five. Sam took the money and reached in his pocket, pulling out a small bottle of lube. When the trick took it, Sam turned to the wall, placing his hands on it to steady himself. The guy quickly dropped both of their pants. Sam briefly felt a slick finger push into him before he was harshly entered without any real preparation. That meant it hurt like hell. But this wasn't the first time he's felt this pain so it barely registered. The pain wasn't why he had a sick, gnawing feeling of uselessness growing in his stomach.

Here he was being fucked in an open alleyway like a common whore. That's what made him hate himself. Made him not want to look into a mirror. Sam had meant to become more than this. To do more with his life than becoming a human sex toy. God, how did he even end up here? This fucking low! And the worst part was that there was no way out. Brock owned him and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it unless he just died. And Sam almost took that option several times because it seemed that letting it happen naturally was going to take too long.

The guy let out a low groan as snapped his hips forward and Sam felt his warm, thick, sickening sperm flood his body. It made Sam want to retch all over the ground but that would be bad for business. Sam learned that the hard way back when he had been a chump. A kid. Brock certainly made sure he learned damned quickly.

When the guy was done he pulled out and walked away. Sam winced as he bent down and grabbed his pants, pulling them back up to his waist. He counted up the money he made and decided to call it a night. He also decided to take the scenic route to that apartment building he currently was forced to live in. Because Sam could never call it a home. He had a home once. He knew what home felt like. Brock was not it.

Sam wished he could find someone who could be home for him but he gave up on daydreams long ago.


	2. Chapter 2

Seeing the familiar unmarked car pull up caused Sam to relax and tense, simultaneously. He saw the car coming up the block, but Steve didn’t always stop on his corner, didn’t always need Sam’s particular brand of info.

The tall blonde got out his car, all calm, friendly, and innocuous. Hidden not too deep was the keen ability to kill someone with a bat of an eye. Though, Sam could honestly say that part of Steve was just for the bad guys. The blonde was genuinely wholesome and kind as he seemed.

"I'm not soliciting," Sam said immediately because that was his go-to whenever there was a cop around. The tall blonde rolled his ocean blue eyes.

"I'm sure you're not. You obviously have some other good reason as to why you're just standing around on the corner." The guy said. Sam did an eyeroll of his own and shrugged. "Well, anyway, that's not why I'm bugging you tonight. Do you know this kid?" Steve asked as he took a picture out his wallet, showing it to Sam who recognized the guy immediately.

"Yeah, that's Peter," Sam said, then immediately regretted it. Then felt sorry for regretting it. He shouldn’t be so easy to give up information. Brock or his goons could be anywhere. But this kid, Peter, arrived a few months ago...or rather, Brock got his talons on him a couple of months ago.

"Do you know where I can find him?" Steve asked. Sam sighed, looking away for a moment.

“I don’t know, man,” Sam said quietly. The last thing he ever wanted to do was snitch on his pimp. Not because of his great love for Brock but because if Brock found out, Sam would suffer greatly. Might even get killed.

“So you met this kid, asked him his name, but didn’t keep up about his whereabouts. That’s not like you.” Steve said. He was right. Sam tried to take care of the others. Tried to help them out whenever they were in a fix with Brock. Emphasis on tried. Though, he has more successes than failures.

Sam looked around, making sure he didn’t spy Brock or any of the so-called bodyguards he hired to stalk his hoes. Contemplating how much he should tell Steve, if he should say anything. Brock had a type. The type that was young and alone, not a friend or family member to run to. That way, if one of them were to run, it was pretty fucking easy to find them. Sam knew this from experience.

“Come on, Sam,” Steve said when Sam’s silence lingered. “His aunt is looking for him. She's worried sick. Don't you want to send him back to his aunt?" Steve said, holding the picture up for Sam to see again. "He's only sixteen." Sam nodded. He knew how old Peter was. He didn't know the kid had a family or anyone looking for him.

And that, actually, changed everything.

Sam sighed, "Crossbones keeps all the underage ones in that big, fancy hotel over there on seventy-fifth." It wasn't all that fancy but compared to what Sam has lived through; it was really something. He had long been moved from there, though. Brock moved him to the streets the second he turned eighteen. “The best time to catch him is early in the morning. He sneaks to the lobby to make a phone call every day.”

"Thanks, Sam," Steve said. Sam nodded and turned to walk away. He had already said too much, and he could practically hear Brock's blood boiling from seeing Sam talking with a pig for so long. But Steve’s hand on his arm stopped him.

“You know you can always contact me if you want to get away from this life,” Steve said, as always.

“Wish it was that simple,” Sam said.

“It actually is,” Steve said.

Sam hesitated. He almost said it; almost asked Steve to take him away from this horrid nightmare but he was...he was too scared. Brock would find him. He always did.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sam said. He was being honest. A sympathetic, sad smile graced Steve’s lips.

“That’s all I’m asking for,” Steve said. “Stay safe, Sam.”

If only staying safe were possible.

Sam turned and walked further down the sidewalk. He heard the door to Steve’s car close. To Sam, it sounded as if a door of opportunity closed. Of course, that’s how it always felt when he and the blonde went separate ways.

**Author's Note:**

> I really hope you enjoyed it. :D
> 
> Please leave feedback and feel free to criticize; I am always looking for opportunities to grow.
> 
> I’ve launched an E-Zine where people submit their favorite fics and the best ones get published in the zine. I’m doing this because I want to create something that acknowledges fanfic writers and makes them feel confident about themselves while bringing people of different fandoms together. [To learn more click here.](http://jeniouis.com/jfw-zine.html).


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